SERA'S POV
"Wait!" I call after the ghost, but it's already disappeared into the black depths of the catacombs.
My father sent it. That means he's alive. That means there's hope.
That also means I have to follow a ghost into cursed burial grounds filled with things that want me dead.
"This is insane," Lyra breathes beside me.
"Probably," I agree. Then I start down the stairs.
"Sera—" Kael grabs my arm. "We don't know if that thing is telling the truth. It could be a trap."
"Everything is a trap." I pull free. "But my father is alive, and that ghost knows where he is. I'm going."
"Then we're all going," Damon says firmly.
I don't argue. We don't have time.
The five of us descend into darkness—me, Lyra, Kael, Damon, and Asher. The temperature drops with every step. The air tastes like old death and forgotten magic.
At the bottom of the stairs, the catacombs stretch out in every direction. Stone tunnels lined with bones. Ancient burial chambers carved into walls. And everywhere, a faint glow from spirits drifting through the darkness like wisps of smoke.
"Stay close," Kael orders. "Don't touch anything. Don't speak to any spirits except the one guiding us."
"You've been here before?" I ask.
"Once. When I was fifteen." His jaw clenches. "Three of us went in. Only I came out."
A chill runs down my spine that has nothing to do with the cold.
The ghost appears ahead of us, glowing pale blue in the darkness.
"This way, Alpha Prime. Quickly. Time grows short."
We follow it deeper into the catacombs. The tunnels twist and turn, forming a maze that would be impossible to navigate without our spirit guide. Bones crunch under our boots. The whispers of the dead echo off stone walls.
Then I hear it—a sound that makes my blood freeze.
Footsteps. Behind us. Multiple sets.
"We're being followed," Asher says quietly, his hand on his weapon.
"Morgana's assassins," Damon curses. "They must've seen us enter."
"How many?" I ask.
Lyra tilts her head, listening. "At least twenty. Maybe more."
"They're trying to trap us down here," Kael realizes. "Kill us where no one will find the bodies."
The ghost ahead of us stops, turning to face us with hollow eyes. "The hunters come. You must choose, Daughter of Ashwood. Fight them here and waste precious time? Or trust me and run?"
Every instinct screams not to trust this thing.
But the footsteps are getting closer.
"Run," I decide.
The ghost smiles—a terrible expression on its translucent face. "Wise. Follow. Do not stray from the path, or the catacombs will claim you."
We run through the darkness, the ghost leading us deeper. Behind us, shouts echo as our pursuers give chase.
"There! I see them!"
"Don't let them escape!"
Crossbow bolts whistle past my head. One nearly takes off Damon's ear.
"They're gaining!" Lyra gasps.
The ghost leads us into a massive burial chamber filled with ancient sarcophagi. Hundreds of them, stacked to the ceiling.
"Through here," it says, pointing to a narrow gap between stone coffins.
We squeeze through just as our pursuers flood into the chamber.
"Spread out! Find them!"
The assassins begin searching, weapons drawn. We're trapped in a maze of coffins with killers on all sides.
Kael presses a finger to his lips, signaling silence. We hold our breath, listening to the assassins move closer.
One passes within inches of where I'm hiding.
Then the ghost does something unexpected.
It screams.
The sound is inhuman—a wail of pure anguish that echoes through the chamber and sets my teeth on edge. Every candle in the room flares bright, then dies.
In the darkness, other spirits appear. Hundreds of them, rising from the sarcophagi like smoke.
And they're angry.
"What's happening?" an assassin shouts.
"The dead! They're attacking!"
Screams fill the chamber. Not our screams—theirs. The spirits swarm the assassins like a plague, tearing at them with spectral hands, dragging them into coffins that slam shut with terrible finality.
In thirty seconds, all twenty assassins are gone. Dead or trapped, I can't tell.
"This way," our ghost guide says calmly, as if it didn't just orchestrate a massacre. "We must hurry. Your father's time runs short."
We follow, too shocked to do anything else.
The tunnels change as we go deeper. The bones disappear, replaced by carved stone covered in ancient symbols. The air grows warmer. And I feel it—a pull in my chest, like something calling to me.
"What is this place?" I whisper.
"The Old Temple," the ghost answers. "Built before the Seven Kingdoms. Before wolves ruled these lands. This is where the first Alpha Primes were crowned."
We enter a massive chamber lit by blue flames that burn without heat. At the center stands an altar, and chained to it—
"Father!"
I run forward, but Kael catches me. "Wait. It could be an illusion."
But I know it's not. I can feel it in my bones, in my wolf, in the mate bonds that connect me to everything.
That's my father. Alive but barely. Chains covered in glowing runes bind him to the altar. His clothes are torn and bloody. His face is gaunt from years of captivity.
But his eyes—his grey-gold eyes that match mine—open when he hears my voice.
"Sera?" His voice is a broken rasp. "Little wolf?"
"I'm here, Father. I'm going to—"
"No." His voice strengthens. "It's a trap. She knew you'd come. She's been waiting—"
The chamber doors slam shut behind us.
Morgana's laughter echoes from everywhere and nowhere.
"How predictable," her voice purrs from the shadows. "The daughter rushes to save the father. The rejected mates rush to save the girl. All of you, exactly where I want you."
Figures emerge from the darkness. Not assassins this time.
Blood wraiths—creatures made of pure dark magic, each one strong enough to kill an alpha.
And there are dozens of them.
"You wanted to find your father, Sera?" Morgana's voice is poison-sweet. "Congratulations. Now you can die together. And your three princes? They'll watch every second of it before the wraiths tear them apart too."
The blood wraiths advance, their red eyes glowing with hunger.
We're trapped. Surrounded. Outnumbered.
And somewhere above us, dawn is approaching.
The trial begins in less than two hours.
If we survive the next two minutes.